Fates Intertwined
by gaybaconprincess
Summary: In the booming, bustling world of the 1920s, two flappers go on quite an adventure. Content with their ideal that love is just a distant dream fool's let themselves get carries away with, their hearts lead them both to two very different people. A club ridden with crime, mob bosses, and lost Christian boys isn't the best place to fall in love, however. [SeeKyd, Jerald]
1. Club Life

[I do not own Teen Titans or any characters mentioned in this story. hEY, guess who? Sorry I've been gone for so long, I had some things that needed taking care of. Guess Diversity and Blood Sweat and Reeds will have to wait a little while longer. An idea that started out as a joke snowballed into a full fledged 1920s AU, hope you enjoy.]

The jazz band playing upstairs pounded and echoed in SeeMore's head, and as much as he enjoyed a good saxophone solo, he was pretty close to throwing his glass on the floor of the "hide-out room". The Hideout Room was a room hidden by a trap door no one knew about except the employees of Benny's, a place where the flappers could just sit at a table and smoke or chat for a few minutes of rest. Of course, SeeMore still didn't appreciate the jazz band upstairs interrupting his rest, but something was better than nothing he supposed.

It was true, SeeMore, the son of a preacher, was a flapper - a hooker. His job was to walk around the club and "entertain" the guests there, manage to get at least one person in bed with him every night. It wasn't the most ideal situation, and it had certainly aged his mentality over time, but he didn't have much choice.

At fifteen, SeeMore confessed to his father, the pastor of a chapel, that he didn't like women, he liked men. His father, to say the least, was absolutely appalled. He gave SeeMore two days, three dollars, and one suitcase to pack all of his belongings and get out of town. If SeeMore waited any longer, his father promised to give an anonymous tip to a local gay hating gang around the street corner.

After that, he was picked up by a man who offered him a place working at Benny's. He wasn't immediately a flapper of course, he just asked to work as that when he turned eighteen so that he could make more money than before.

SeeMore was ripped from his thoughts by the loud thud that came with a medium sized bag filled to the brim with golden jewelry being tossed carelessly onto the table, followed by another thud that sounded when Jericho plopped himself down in the seat across from SeeMore. SeeMore immediately ripped into the bag, pulling out the biggest, shiniest necklace he'd ever seen in his life.

"Where the hell did you get this stuff?" SeeMore demanded in a shrill voice, trying to figure out how to snag the necklace away from Jericho when he wasn't looking.

"The pig that I got with last night turned out to be pretty damn wealthy. I think he was a governor, an heir maybe." Jericho provided distantly as he grabbed a large bottle filled with what was probably alcohol from a hidden cabinet behind him.

Jericho was SeeMore's co-worker, also a hooker. The difference was, Jericho almost seemed to enjoy it. He loved the attention of all the men, he loved being able to play anyone he wanted around his finger. And he definitely loved being asked to sing with the piano man every night at around nine. He especially seemed to take joy in stealing things from the men he bedded, he'd probably gathered up a fortune by now. Surely he had the money to quit working at Benny's, but for some reason he didn't. SeeMore knew there was probably a deeper cause to that, to ever wanting to be able to walk the streets again, but he never pried out of common courtesy.

"You know," Jericho said in a singsong voice, interrupting SeeMore's jewelry analyzation, "You could probably make more money like me if you'd just slip up once or twice and pickpocketed some of these pigs."

"Sorry," SeeMore replied with a glare, "I, unlike some people, still keep my religion despite all of this."

"Your loss." Jericho said in a light voice, shrugging his shoulders that were ridden bare due to the flapper-esque dress he wore.

SeeMore shook his head at Jericho for another moment as Jericho picked up a mirror and started putting on some of the jewelry he'd gained, smiling widely at a silver pin he'd found.

"What do you think's gonna happen when one of those guys catches you in the act and tosses you out of the window? What then Joseph?" SeeMore asked. Joey flinched for a moment, his smile dropping.

"Don't call me that." Jericho said darkly as he glared death at SeeMore.

"Doesn't matter anyway," Jericho said, already back into his light mood, "I'm smart enough to not get caught, I know what I'm doing."

SeeMore scoffed for a moment.

"And what happens when you slip up?"

Jericho ignored his berating friend.

"What happens when you die Jericho? Where are you gonna be, come final judgment?" SeeMore demanded.

"Oh shut up already! Don't act all high and mighty around me, prick. You do the same shit I do, you just don't take the same pride in it." Jericho snapped, glancing a SeeMore for only a moment before he went back to modeling the silver pin again.

"Besides," he continued, "There's no such thing as God as far as I'm concerned. Keep your religion to yourself for once."

SeeMore opened his mouth again to protest, only for Jericho to interrupt.

"If there was a God, if God "loved" all his children, then me and you wouldn't be here, would we?" Jericho asked solemnly. SeeMore looked down, he had nothing to say to that last statement.

Jericho sighed again as he continued to brush through his hair with his fingers.

"That's what I thought."

* * *

Little did either boy know or care, miles and miles away something dark was being put into play.

An infamous killer surrounded himself with newspaper clippings and empty guns, plotting out just how he'd go about his next action to ensure that he would be the one running the town for a while.

Something wicked was going to hit Benny's pretty damn soon.

[Hope you enjoy! I've got a bunch of ideas for this. You'll _never_ guess what that last paragraph was alluding to. (Yes you will, I'm bad at this.) Read and Review please!]


	2. Inner Demons

[I do not own Teen Titans or any characters mentioned in this story. tHIS CHAPTER ITS A LONG ONE TOO OOPs. It's mainly SeeKyd, trigger warning for SeeMore starving himself. Also, this chapter takes place in a cathedral, so don't get offended when I use the word "God" a lot. To the StarX request anon: I'm sorry but I don't think I'll be doing that. I _will_ be including Starfire, but I just can't see her and Red-X together, sorry. I've already got a plot point involving her with someone else anyway. I'm so sorry I can't include that, I hope it doesn't ruin the story for you in anyway.]

The streets weren't the safest place for a flapper to roam at night, but like hell was that going to stop SeeMore. He dragged his two feet like lead as he attempted to swallow the cotton ball he felt like he had in his mouth. His heart was heavy, along with the bags under his eyes and the guilt he felt he had to cope with. He felt his heart buzz along with the city as he walked lonesome down the long boardwalk and toward a place very familiar to him. The ocean swayed and seemed to buzz along with SeeMore and the city, ebbing, flowing, crashing, bashing, all at the same time.

SeeMore's thoughts were interrupted by a growl to his stomach.

He ignored it.

It was the easiest thing to do anyway. To tell Jericho and the manager that he was going to bring his dinner to the pier and eat alone, only to throw it all out into the ocean and think long and hard about what he was doing, where he really belonged, why he was where he was in life. It never led anywhere of course, just to the same revelation over and over and over again. That there was something wrong with him.

SeeMore knew what he went through wasn't healthy, trying to hold onto to person after person despite knowing that they only saw him as a pass time. Hell, he didn't even like most of the people he "loved". It was just easier and it distracted him from the present sinking feeling in his stomach. His own father couldn't bring himself to love SeeMore, why think anyone else would?

To cope with his feelings, he starved himself. To cope with the starvation, he attempted to hold onto people, desperate for any kind of real affection, only to push people away and tell himself that he didn't deserve love. This resulted in more feelings. It was an endless cycle that tested just how low SeeMore could get before he offed himself.

SeeMore forced his thoughts out of his rumbling head as he looked up at the familiar, ancient building in front of him and smiled, already hopping over the fence and making his way through the window.

The large cathedral was welcoming and damning at the same time. The roof seemed to fall out into an endless black void from the thick darkness that engulfed the halls, the only light being the faint glow cast by the full moon outside. The pale glow of the moon was made distorted and webbed by the stained glass windows, casting beautifully intricate patterns onto the pews and altar. SeeMore was sure that there were paintings of some kind lining the white walls, but it was much too dark to make them out with his already terrible vision.

After all that he'd been through, despite the sins he committed every day, SeeMore was still a preacher's son at heart. At least once a week, usually in the middle and in the dark of night, SeeMore would sneak away from Benny's to come to the little white church on the side of the peer and he'd pray on his knees for forgiveness for hours at a time. Jericho thought he was completely insane, and maybe he was right. There were multiple ways to say that God had given up on SeeMore, but it was all SeeMore had left of his family or his past, he couldn't let go just yet. When he didn't pray, he toiled over the holy bible night after night, studying and memorizing scripture that he didn't always understand to its full extent.

But tonight was different.

As SeeMore approached the altar where he normally bowed his head, a different shape came into view and beat him to his favorite spot in the church.

It was a creature not all that much older than him. It had inky black hair that was matted in several places, it donned a suit that had black and barely visible gray lines vertically on it, it had a classic black fedora, and it had a very impending gun slung to its side.

SeeMore wouldn't dare refer to it as a human, a boy. SeeMore saw it's monstrous face when it passed him to get to the altar. Red, bloody, evil eyes like slits, pointed ears, skin as pale as a corpse.

A demon.

A mob boss, a killer, a _demon_ , dared to enter the house of God without having the courtesy to light itself on fire first.

As SeeMore was debating whether to scream and run or stay and tell the horrible thing off for disrespecting such a holy place with its mere presence, the gangster fell to his knees on the floor in front of the altar.

SeeMore blinked once, twice, three times before finally letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding in surprise.

The gun slung over demon's shoulder was tossed to it's side as the creature ripped of its hat and held it to his chest in a motion of respect and mourning.

And then the creature started speaking.

It wasn't latin, it wasn't some ancient lost language and it wasn't speaking in tongues. It was reciting the same prayer SeeMore recited every single night he came here, down on its knees, looking like it wanted to die for the things it'd done just that day.

SeeMore slowly, ever so cautiously approached the wicked thing, pulling out a cross necklace from under his clothes and holding it out in front of him just in case the demon was purposely drawing him near.

The demon looked up at him with a start when he heard the footsteps, and SeeMore attempted to think of something to say, only for it to come out rude and snappy.

"What do you think you're doing here?"

The demon glared at him for a moment before sighing like it'd had this conversation thousands of times.

"I'm. Praying." He said stiffly as he closed his eyes again and knelt his head. SeeMore decided not to point out the obvious and possibly anger the demon by stating his inhumanity.

"You're a gangster."

"And you're a hooker." The demon snapped back. SeeMore's entire face went red with indignant anger.

"I am a flapper!" SeeMore corrected angrily, growing even redder in the face when the demon gave an uncaring and disbelieving scoff.

There was a moment of silence between the two, SeeMore calming himself down and the demon silently praying that the strange stripper he'd met would just leave already.

"...Why?" SeeMore said finally, not looking the demon in the face as it looked up at SeeMore as if seeing him for the first time.

"...What?" The gangster asked hoarsely.

"Why do you pray?"

There was yet another long, stretched out moment of silence as the questioned thought about the answer for a long while.

"...I'm not what I seem." The red eyed boy stated solemnly. This caused SeeMore to finally whip around at the demon and glare.

"I know you're not! You're a demon! You don't belong in a church, you belong in hell!"

"Oh of course, because God loves his children, even the ones that are willing to fuck whatever will pay!" The boy yelled.

SeeMore felt his heart stop.

"...Who...who...are you…?" SeeMore asked slightly appalled. He didn't know why he cared. To be quite honest he didn't, but he needed a distraction before he started crying.

"...Elliot…" The boy sighed, confused with his own words. It was a foolish move to tell a random stranger your real name when you're as wanted as Elliot. He usually went by Kyd Wykkyd.

"...And I'm not a demon. I'm just...different. I've been through shit, alright?" He finished sternly.

"...We all have, I suppose." SeeMore said in an almost friendly way, his heart still sinking.

"...Seymour." He commented, surprising Elliot with his openness.

"...So why do _you_ pray?" Elliot asked finally, standing up and causing Seymour to back up just a tad bit from Elliot's intimidating height and stature compared to his own.

"...I don't have a choice but to do the things I do. If I did I definitely wouldn't be doing them...I'm broken, I think. There's something wrong with me, something missing. I think it's something important…" Seymour said, trailing off near the end. Elliot sighed before he smiled.

"I think we're in a similar situation. I was young and foolish when I started in a gang, but now I'm to top boss. If the cops find me, there's no second chance or forgiveness, they'll shoot me down where I stand. That or sentence me to death. And to be quite honest," Elliot explained, looking distant before he started glaring.

"I'd rather die by my own hand or God's. No man's gonna kill me, so why should I let a pig do the job?" He growled lowly.

Elliot turned and looked SeeMore in the eye, in a sad, frustrated, confused way all at once.

SeeMore was caught in that stare. His breath caught, his stomach didn't sink anymore, and his heart felt flatlined.

"...I think...maybe you don't need to find a new way to die. You just," SeeMore said, staring into the desperate vastness of red in Elliot's eyes, the boy hanging onto his every word, screaming out for an answer to his troubles.

"...You need someone better than you in your life. To keep you steady." SeeMore said finally, his heart racing for unknown reason, feeling something he hadn't felt in a _very_ long time.

"Goodbye Elliot." SeeMore said quickly before he walked out of the chapel, leaving a confused and flustered Elliot behind him, staring helplessly at the flapper boy he didn't ask to walk into his life, but probably needed despite that.

Why did God _condemn_ him to this _feeling_ , and for a sassy, silver donned hooker no less?

[I hope you enjoyed. Read and Review please!]


	3. Friends

[I do not own Teen Titans or any characters mentioned in this story. It's a little difficult updating midweek because of school, but I manage. Introducing Mal "what-is-a-sex" Duncan. I enjoy writing him.]

Mal Duncan was lost, very, very lost. He'd only recently moved into the city with his grandfather, and it'd taken him a grand total of three hours to lose the borderline nuts man and find himself plopped down on a wet and dirty bench in the rain. He was already sure that his grandfather could handle himself, he was a strong man, he was smart too. _Mal_ on the other hand…

As if a sign from God, the flickering lights of a club down the block caught Mal's eye. The least he'd be able to do was get dry and out of the sickening rain, hopefully clear his head and find where he was and how to travel back to his and his grandfather's hotel for the night.

The rain sounded calmly in Mal's ears, in an almost foreboding way. He felt like something bad was going to happen if he stayed in the streets, so he just kept walking and avoiding any eye contact with the people he met. Finally, Mal was met with the large doors of the club, opening them up to what seemed like an entirely different world from his own.

Outside the club, the world was rainy and grey, dreary with no sunshine in sight. Inside, beautiful performers and dancers were bustling to and fro, every single inch of the estate was lit up with dazzlings lights somehow, and Mal was nearly blinded with the amount of shiny jewelry donning both the workers and the clients.

Mal finally trudged his way toward the stairs in a stupor like state, in awe of all that he saw. There definitely wasn't any place like this in Kentucky, but Chicago was obviously much different.

After he made his way up the stairs (lined with ropes of velvet and golden silk drapery despite Mal's concerns on money), he plopped down into a table with a white cloth over it, giving himself an easy and full view of the stage below. Several people attempting to offer him alcohol, but he did as normal and politely declined in favor of some water. He felt like he were in a fairytale, a ballroom. Everything was golden and shiny, and Mal felt dazed no matter where he turned his gaze.

"Don't think I've seen you around before."

Mal heard a scratchy, sultry voice call from the side of him, and turned to look at the blonde sitting at the table across from him, draped over the chair and table like a fine fabric. A very, very, _very_ fine fabric.

"O-oh, um, could you maybe help me?" Mal asked nervously, not completely trusting the amount of alluring skin showing on the body a few feet away from him.

"I don't know," The blonde boy asked in a mock tone, appearing in front of Mal in a flash. The boy was just suddenly _there_ , sitting on the table with his legs crossed over one another, and Mal almost forgot what he'd asked in the first place because of the shine of the boy's clothing.

"Can I?" He asked in a teasing tone, leaning down to get just centimeters from Mal's face and giving off what Mal could only ever describe as "bedroom eyes".

"...Maybe? I-I'm lost. I'm new here and I need to find my way to Dauphine Hotel before midnight. Do you maybe-?" Mal asked, not noticing Jericho's quiet glare before he set back into his character again.

"Aw, you're leaving so soon? Wouldn't you rather spend the night with me?" Jericho asked in a sultry, teasing voice as he traced circles into Mal's thigh, all of which Mal promptly ignored.

"Well I wouldn't want to leave my grandfather all by himself. I'm not _that_ terrible of a person." Mal answered simply. Jericho's eyebrow twitched in agitation before he let out another grin and slid into Mal's lap.

"Oh c'mon, don't you wanna break the rules just for tonight? I'm bored," Jericho asked in a cute voice.

"Play with me." He finished, whispering in the taller boy's ear.

"No." Mal said simply after thinking about it for a moment. Jericho spluttered disgracefully.

"N-No? What do you mean 'no'?!" Jericho demanded, now sitting straight up with a heavy glare on his face and his hands on his hips.

"I'm sure you're a nice person and all, but God says not to-"

"Ugh! I should've _known_ you were one of those stuck up church boys! Honestly, I don't even know why I _waste my time-!_ " Jericho said mostly to himself and he stalked off of Mal's lap and toward some unknown location.

"I'm Mal, it's nice to meet you!" Mal said cheerily as he walked beside Jericho, who was promptly ignoring him and trying to speed walk fast enough to let the boy know he wanted him to leave.

"...I like your dress, it's very shiny and pretty." Mal commented to Jericho's silence.

"...You're very pretty too. We don't have shiny things like you in Kentucky, everything's all gloom and doom and damnation all the time. It's nice to get a new atmosphere once in a-"

"If I tell you my name will you leave me alone?" Jericho asked as he whipped around to the boy. Mal didn't really know why he wanted the other's name so bad, he just did. Mal wasn't going to let the boy give himself away to him, especially when he probably went through so much heartache already with his job, but he was always open to new friends.

"Yes." Mal said with a warm smile that contrasted Jericho's cold glare in the worst way.

"I'm Jeri-"

"Your real name." Mal interrupted, causing Jericho to stop and look at him like a madman.

"...Excuse me?" Jericho asked with his hands on his hips.

"I want your real name, not your stage name. I don't want to get laid, I just want a friend to talk to until I can find my way home." Mal said with a smile. Jericho rolled his eyes and sighed at his cheerfulness.

"...Joseph. My friends call me Joey. Or, they would if I had any friends." Joey said finally, eyeing Mal again, but in a less predatory way and in a more curiously confused way - he was almost intrigued.

Mal didn't know why he found the small sassy blonde so intriguing, but he just did. He was very outspoken and spunky for someone so low class, and Mal admired that in him.

"...Well, as fun as this has been Hal-"

"Mal." The boy corrected.

"Yeah, whatever- I have somewhere to be."

"Try not to break too many hearts _church boy._ " Joey said with a wink thrown behind him toward the boy as he sashayed his way toward backstage.

[I wanted REALLY badly to write in a singing scene with this, but I wanted to actually get this posted more. I hope you enjoy. Read and Review please!]


	4. Lovesick

[I do not own Teen Titans or any characters mentioned in this story. The next chapter will probably be more SeeKyd,,,maybe? Until then have a slowly unraveling Jericho.]

Jericho didn't know why Mal had returned to the club, but either way he was enjoying himself. It'd turned into a little game of sorts between the two very opposite boys. Jericho would see just how far he could push Mal's blush and Mal would always politely decline until Jericho was red with anger and leave.

"Good evening _Copain_. How've you been?" Jericho asked with a roll of his tongue as he hugged Mal neck from behind his seat on the balcony.

"Hey, since when do you know french?" Mal asked with a laugh as Joey took his seat on the table, speeding up Mal's heart only a small bit.

"You shouldn't assume that all flappers are idiots. Some of us definitely know some things." Jericho said with a sip from Mal's glass, making a face and nearly spitting it out when he realized it was just water.

"You never cease to amuse me church boy. You know, I could probably return the favor if you'd just-"

"No."

Jericho rolled his eyes and sighed, his eyebrow twitching again.

"You know," Mal said, making Jericho nearly jump out of his skin when Mal started rubbing up and down his bare thighs with his calloused hands.

"You've got really pretty skin."

Jericho stared at Mal for a few moments more, trying to make some sense of the boy in his head.

"You know, it's my _job_ to please you, to do...things." Joey offered, swirling the water in Mal's glass around with his small hand.

"You want to...please me?" Mal asked, in an almost giving in voice.

"Yes." Joey whispered as he finally looked up at Mal, an excited glint in his eye. Mal took a moment to think this over before speaking and not once breaking his gaze from Jericho.

"Take off your headband." Mal said, Joey smiling and sighing as he did so, glad he'd finally won against Mal's 'religion'. The golden headband with the feather attached to it came off easily, letting the fluff of hair that normally covered his right eye come just a bit looser, not plastered against his sight.

"Y'know, I knew _eventually_ you'd have to-"

Jericho's brain stopped working.

Mal had leaned over the moment the headband left Joey's head so that he could place a beautiful golden pin in his hair, pinning back the yellow fluff and showing his dazzling face to the world. As he was doing this, the strange church boy planted a firm but soft kiss to Jericho's cheek. The softest, most innocent kiss Jericho had experienced in his life, sending volts of nervous electricity through his system.

This wasn't how kisses were supposed to be. They were used as passageway, a transition between the alluring and the dirty, they were rough and mean and sometimes even painful. Soft, sweet, innocent, that's not how kisses were. This wasn't how kisses were supposed to be.

Or had Jericho just gotten so used to pigs that he forgot what a real kiss felt like?

"You have beautiful eyes. It's a shame you always hide one. I found this pin in my grandfather's old drawer, the gold and the glitter made me think of you." Mal said to Joey's stricken and dazed face.

Joey's eyes were blown wide, his mouth slightly agape and a lovely strawberry blush across his cheeks, the left side of his face feeling open and exposed in the best way without the hair covering it up. Joey's small, delicate hand was touching where Mal's lips had previously been on his cheek, ghostly soft from a fear of wiping away the feeling of the other boy's kiss. He looked lost, confused, almost fearful, but he also donned an emotion he hadn't in a long time.

Mal smiled at how cute Joey looked when the tables turned and _he_ was the one at a loss for words, already picking up his things and grabbing his satchel filled with writing supplies and his case that held his precious trumpet. Mal turned around to Joey one more time, the boy still sitting on the table. Joey's head was whirring a million miles per second, but it still wasn't fast enough for Joey to do anything but stare at the wall and caress his kissed cheek. The boy was curled in on himself, his legs now brought to his chest as his free hand emptily wringing around itself, desperate to find something to hold on to.

Joey jolted again when Mal suddenly had the gall his kiss the same cheek in the same spot yet again, causing the blonde to jump with energy and finally look up at Mal in an awed, confused state.

"You're real pretty underneath all that gold and jewelry and dirt." Mal said simply, like stating a fact that was obvious. Joey's breathing was shallow, his eyes were confused, and his heart was screaming in fear of what Joey was afraid was happening.

Mal smiled at Joey one more time before he left the club, but Joey couldn't move for at least another thirty minutes. He just sat on the table on the edge of the balcony and curled in on himself, his arms hiding his red face and his exploding heart. He just sat there and thought, wished, hoped, _prayed_ that his heart was lying to him. Jericho had been with people before, both 'romantically' and sexually. But he'd never felt like this. He'd never felt like he wanted to just grab someone by the arm and yank them down before they could argue against him cuddling up to them until they felt like one person. He'd never felt like he wanted to just sit and kiss the same pair of lips over and over and over again without it leading anywhere except happy giggles and murmured words. He'd never felt like his heart was a pool of string, and with every passing step of Mal away from Joey his heart was unwinding into nothingness.

Despite his own denial and deliberation, Jericho was completely lovestruck for the oblivious little church boy that just so happened to wander into Benny's on a whim a few nights ago.

* * *

The next night when Mal came in, Joey was more determined to sleep with him than ever. He'd already decided the previous night before he'd fallen asleep that his heart was simply overreacting, and went back to his normal ways. There was no such thing as love, only scientific reactions of your body of someone else's. That was why it was so important for Jericho to sleep with Mal. If he could, then he could prove to himself that he wasn't in love, and never would be, and life would make sense again.

"Good evening music man." Jericho greeted as he hopped over to sitting in his normal position and obstructing Mal's view of the stage below.

"Hello blondie. Oh, I have something for you!" Mal said before he dug into his bag.

"Oh, wonderful. Look, if you brought me a bible-" Joey said with a roll of his eyes and an airy laugh.

"It's not a bible!" Mal said with a laugh before he held out a considerably large bouquet of marigolds in front of Joseph's face, interrupting his view of Mal.

Joey's face dropped just like it did last time, and he suddenly remembered that he hadn't even managed _one_ pick up line before Mal broke down his brain yet again. Joey's breathing turned shallow again, and he felt his heart jumping in his throat.

Joey gingerly, ever so gently took the blooming, vibrant flowers from Mal's grasp, setting them on his lap and just staring at them for a long moment. It was so strange seeing them. They were bright and loud and dazzling in a way not even the club was.

"Where did you get these? There's no place in Chicago that sells them, I've looked everywhere!" Jericho demanded in a loud, upset voice.

"O-oh, um, my grandfather grows them. I thought you might like some. Do you...like them?" Mal asked nervously, wringing his hands together as Jericho looked down at the flowers with an unreadable expression.

What felt like forever ago, Joseph Wilson sat on the dirty ground outside of his family's expensive estate, no more than maybe nine years old as he helped his mother plant what felt like millions of marigolds. Her soft voice seemed to carry away with the petals in the wind, filling everything up with her beautiful smile and her welcoming hugs.

"...I love them." Joey whispered in a hoarse voice, not letting more than two tears trickle down his face and onto the flowers.

"What?" Mal asked, surprised beyond belief. Of course though, Jericho jumped right back into being Jericho.

"Bring me more." He demanded with a glare.

"...As many as you like." Mal responded with a warm smile and a chuckle.

* * *

This long and tiresome cycle of Mal innocently flirting with Jericho without even realizing it as if he were a schoolboy and Joseph finding more reasons to melt in Mal's presence continued on for more than was acceptable. Jericho wouldn't lie, he enjoyed it more than he should have. He hated feeling so helpless in front of Mal, but at the same time he lived for the little moments between tending to "clients" where he was just able to sit with Mal and be given other surprises and presents that any other flapper definitely wouldn't ever receive. Mal was confusing, to say the least. He treated Jericho like royalty, despite his constant nagging and sassing and tempting. He never once asked for anything in return. He wasn't greedy, he wasn't mean, he wasn't pushy, he wasn't a pig. He was just _Mal_.

Jericho liked being around just Mal.

[Read and Review please!]


	5. Denial

[I do not own Teen Titans or any characters mentioned in this story. Welp, there's some SeeKyd at least. It's more of a setup really. Hope you enjoy.]

SeeMore continued to bite his lips to stifle his giggles as Jericho ranted for all he was worth, almost near the point of throwing things around their shared room.

Because of the policies at Benny's, SeeMore and Jericho both lived in the same room in a secret part of the club after everyone had left. It was quite the setup, but SeeMore had gotten used to it long ago.

The boy was ripped from his thoughts as a lamp was thrown at his head, forcing SeeMore to duck and cover his mouth to quiet his laughter.

"He is _infuriating_!" Jericho screamed from where he was standing in the middle of the room, stomping one foot to emphasize his point.

After SeeMore had finally gotten to quiet his giggles, he walked over to where Jericho sat pouting on the bed, sitting next to him in attempted comfort.

"I thought you said you were in love with-"

"No!" Jericho yelled, whipping around to face SeeMore.

"Do _not_ say that word! I am _not_ in love, and I _never_ will be! I- He- ugh!" Jericho spat, reduced to angry grumbling noises as he laid back on his bed and buried his face into his pillow.

" _How_ is he so _nice_? He has to have some ulterior motive! He's probably with my father! My father has found my whereabouts after years of festering hatred, and now he's sent some disguised mercenary to take me out for good! That's it!" Jericho said, breathing heavy and sitting up straight once more.

"Joey…" SeeMore said, laying one hand on the boy's shoulder.

"You'd really rather accept being hunted down by your father in place of just admitting that you've finally found real love?" SeeMore asked.

"It's _not_ real love!" Jericho yelled, slapping SeeMore's hand away and glaring death at the boy.

"You don't...you don't get it! No one does!" Jericho said to himself, mostly.

"Everyone who's ever 'loved' me, has hurt me, hurt me _bad_ , See. I've been kicked when I'm down, I've been hit and slapped and thrown around like a broken toy, I've been mentally mutilated and emotionally killed over and over again my entire life by the people I thought loved me!" Jericho said with a sick kind of power in his voice, like he was trying to prove a point more to himself than to SeeMore.

"There is _no such thing_ as _love!_ It's just another way for people to manipulate and lie until they get what they want and feel better about themselves." Jericho said in a disbelieving voice, flashing back to Mal's chuckle and Mal's warm smile and Mal's welcoming hugs and Mal's dangerously wonderful kisses and-

" _I am not in love!_ " Jericho yelled once more as he stomped his way out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

SeeMore sat on the bed still, just staring sadly at the door as a picture hanging on the wall teetered back and forth from the force.

Finally, SeeMore sighed and decided to move through the door and hallways that were lit up by stained glass lamps, making his way toward the manager's office. He needed to talk to _someone_ about Jericho, at this rate he'd destroy the entire place and he wouldn't stop until Mal Duncan broke his heart for good.

The walls were lined with beautiful vintage pictures of random people with the manager, some familiar and some not. SeeMore would've paid more attention if not for the distracting sound of yelling coming from the inside of the manager's office.

SeeMore stood outside with his hands folded politely, not one to eavesdrop but not one to back away in fear either.

He could tell the two voices yelling were both male, and that one of them was the manager. He could just faintly see shadows through the windows of one male slamming his hands down from behind the manager's desk, the other yelling and pointing and making rude gestures toward the rest of the estate.

SeeMore was thankful for his quick reflexes, as he was easily able to avoid the large door that was headed to his face when it flung open. The door banged hard against the wall, sending the pictures on the wall teetering and in some cases crashing down and breaking the frames.

"You'll be sorry you crossed me, _anguis_! You've made a mistake!" Roared the voice from inside the dark room.

"Notice I'm not pissing my drawers at the prospect Wykkyd." Commented the manager before an extremely familiar face came stalking out of the office and slamming the door behind him.

When the door was secured shut, Elliot ripped off his hat and threw it to the ground, roaring and growling as he punched the wall and left three very obvious holes in it.

"...Elliot…?"

The gangster stopped, his heart melting with both fear and joy. Of course Elliot had wanted to see the flapper again, but at the same time he feared when he would. SeeMore may not be all that pure, but he was too innocent to make friends like Elliot.

"...SeeMore." Elliot said simply, looking down at the young boy. He wanted to say more, god, he wanted to say so much more. He wanted to tell SeeMore that he was all Elliot thought about for the past three days. Every night Elliot dreamt about that chocolate hair and the warm skin and the nervous smile. Elliot wanted to tell SeeMore that he'd actually been 'accidentally' tracking him down. Elliot wanted to tell SeeMore that he knew of the conditions he lived with, and that he wanted SeeMore to run away with him, and that he could provide everything SeeMore could ever possibly ask for, if only SeeMore could fill the missing space in his life for a small while.

Elliot would've said all this, had he not been distracted by SeeMore himself. When the pair had first met, it was in the dark church. Now the glimmer shone off of SeeMore's silver outfit, his eyes shone with the firelight of lamps behind him, and his skin seemed to radiate warmth.

SeeMore wasn't quivering, he wasn't cowering in fear, he was just standing there with his hands on his hips and giving Elliot a look that he remembered his mother giving him before.

"Why the hell are you cussing out the manager of Benny's?" SeeMore asked.

"Oh, well, um, you see-" Elliot said nervously, scratching behind his head. He didn't understand this feeling. He was a gangster, and yet he felt like if he disappointed SeeMore that he'd have failed at everything.

"Boss! Coppers got Tremaine, we need to leave before they track us again!" A gruff and startled man suddenly said from down the hallways.

"...See you later?" Elliot offered, bolting down the halls with his gun waving behind him, not even giving SeeMore the chance to respond.

"...W...W-Wykkyd…" SeeMore said to himself breathlessly.

Wykkyd was the most feared crime boss in all of Chicago. He was quick, clean, absolute in his kills. No one denied the ghostly gangster, ever.

And yet now it seemed that SeeMore knew the one thing that could take him down.

Not only that, but SeeMore hadn't realized until just now that the charming boy he'd met in a church, the same boy he'd been dreaming about and cursing himself for doing so, was the top boss of a large scale criminal organization.

Somewhere far, far away, SeeMore was sure he could hear Karma cackling at a job well done.

[Hope you liked it, I don't think I like how this chapter came out. Next chapter's gonna have a new character! Read and review please!]


	6. The Heiress

[I do not own Teen Titans or any characters mentioned in this story. Very very short, very very rushed. I had a little time and decided to write this, so have it.]

Smooth music, dazzling lights, peering men, everything seemed to be same old same old in the club. That is, it _was_ , until a new to the town heiress barged her way in.

Starfire was the rich heiress of an out of state oil company that had never been out of her fancy mansion before. How on earth she met and befriended Jericho was beyond everyone. While she _was_ privileged and kind of ditzy, she was also very kind for an heiress. She was innocent and confused most of the time, curious to her surroundings and wanting to learn more and more and more all the time. She was nowhere near as professional as her older sister. While Blackfire was the one who would most definitely grow to actually own the business, Starfire cared more about the thrills of life that awaited her outside of the pearly gates of monetary refinement. She often wore normal clothes so people wouldn't know of her status, and tried her very best to make friends with what her sister referred to as "peasants".

"Silver boy, have you seen Jericho anywhere?" Starfire asked urgently as she towered over poor SeeMore, who was practically shaking in fear of her height.

"Uh...Jericho? Why-"

"I need to speak with him immediately! Jericho! Blonde hair, green eyes, snappy attitude?" Starfire elaborated before cutting SeeMore off yet again.

"Jericho! News! Drama! I need to speak to-"

"I heard drama." Jericho said slyly as he seemed to slither to where the two people were, leaning an arm on Starfire's shoulder haphazardly, failing and realizing that he would never be tall enough for such a task.

"You are such a drama whore." SeeMore commented with a roll of his eyes, getting a nasty look and a raspberry from Jericho in response.

Within a few minutes, Jericho was standing idly behind the bar of the club with Starfire elatedly waving her hands around to express her emotions as she sat on a barstool across from the blonde.

"-and he was _so strong_ Jericho! And when I asked him his name, he was so polite to me, and he didn't even care at all when I mentioned I was rich, he treated me just like anyone else! Oh, and his hair is so pretty and long, and he even let me touch it!" Starfire squealed and rambled as Jericho smiled fondly at her, silently praying.

Jericho wasn't praying for Starfire of course. He was praying for this 'Mammoth' that Starfire was so fond of. If anyone even dared to break his favorite little princess' heart he'd rip them limb from limb after castrating them in their sleep.

"So, we've got that he's nice and he's pretty and all that, but what are the drawbacks?" Jericho asked knowingly with a sigh, smirking as Starfire practically sunk in her chair.

"He...well...um…" Starfire mumbled as she petted her hair idly.

"...He works as a circus freak." Starfire mumbled, looking at the ground.

Jericho immediately was sent into fits of cackling laughter.

"Oh my- you and- you're really- that's precious! I can't wait to see the kind of stroke your dad gets from-"

"He is NOT to know about this, Jericho! I mean it!" Starfire warned.

"Okay, okay, I won't tell. Don't worry, I know how to keep a secret." Jericho said, making a zipping motion with his mouth.

"So, on the topic of love…who is Mal?" Starfire asked innocently, giggling when Jericho spit out some of his drink.

"No one- who told- HE'S NOT MY BOYFRIEND!" Jericho yelled with a strawberry face, slamming his glass down on the table.

"I never said he was." Starfire said in a singsong voice.

"...We are never to speak of this conversation to anyone Anders. I mean it." Jericho said in finality.

[Read and Review please!]


	7. Four Days

[I do not own Teen Titans or any characters mentioned in this story. oOPS MORE EMOTIONS.]

Four days.

It had been four days since Mal had stepped foot into Benny's, and Jericho was a complete mess.

Jericho had already told himself that he knew Mal would grow tired of him and leave eventually, but for some reason he was still heartbroken over it. Everyone reminded Joey of Mal. He felt empty and lost and he hated it.

Every night Joey would do as normal of him, but during the times when he'd usually meet up with Mal the blonde climbed up to the balcony to their normal table and just sat on it sadly, staring down at the double doors and hoping so bad he'd see a familiar jazz musician come through them. He'd sit and sigh, taking his golden pin out and fiddling with the decorations on it.

Every now and then SeeMore or the manager would come by to ask Jericho why he wasn't actually doing his job, but one look at the aching boy and they slipped away without a word to him.

Jericho didn't understand. Of course, he didn't understand a lot of things that involved Mal, but usually they were pleasant surprises.

Mal had told Joey so many sweet things, so Joey just didn't understand why Mal would leave him all of a sudden.

Mal had said Joey was the most beautiful person he'd ever met. He'd told Joey that his hair was like the sun and his voice was a soft breeze on the seashore. He'd said that he'd never leave Joey's side as long as Joey would sit and talk to him. He'd said that he couldn't bare one day apart because he felt like they were best friends. He'd told Joey that he'd do anything just to have Joseph sing for him one more time. He'd said that Joey was talented and kind and brilliant and striking and-

...And Mal lied.

Jericho tried to tell himself that he knew Mal was lying all along, but he couldn't lie to himself anymore.

Jericho was completely in love with Mal Duncan, and Mal had proven Jericho right when the blonde had said earlier that love is only an excuse to use people, and that those who love you only hurt you along the road.

Mal had _used_ Jericho, just like every other damn _pig_ in Chicago. And Jericho had been so blind, so desperate for even a few words of validation, that he fell for it, and he fell for it hard.

Jericho had been lending Mal a bit of his earnings every night so that he could provide for his grandfather, and it was more than enough for that.

Mal had used Jericho for money. Or perhaps maybe it was Jericho's knowledge about the town he'd wanted. Jericho didn't care, he felt numb and his entire body ached from the inside out.

Jericho wanted to say that he didn't care if Mal was dead or alive, that he didn't care if he never saw Mal again, but he did. God forgive him, he did.

Even after all the heartache and the crying and the wheezing pitifully into his pillow at night, Jericho _still_ loved that asshole. He wished so bad that he didn't.

And then one day, lo and behold as Jericho was serving a table of people, Mal Duncan came waltzing into Benny's like he owned the place, trumpet case in hand and a smile on his stupid lips like he always did, as if nothing in the world was wrong.

Jericho dropped the silver platter holding the couple's food and bolted to Mal, tears already running down his face as he crashed into Mal and sobbed incoherently into his chest.

Mal looked down at the boy in mild concern as Jericho sobbed into his chest, throwing weak punches at Mal that didn't affect the taller boy at all as he caught his fists. Jericho just kept sobbing over and over "I hate…! I hate…!", but he couldn't bring himself to ever say it. He couldn't hate Mal, no matter how much he wanted to.

"...Doll? What's wrong?" Mal asked quietly as Jericho fell limp against him.

"What do you mean what's wrong? I-" Jericho yelled before he stopped, noticing the large amount of people watching them.

"C'mon." Jericho mumbled as he grabbed Mal's arm and yanked him into a supply closet, locking it for at least _some_ privacy.

"W-where…" Jericho began, his head hanging low before he let a sob escape his chest, raising a hand to wipe some of his tears before he continued.

"Where have you been?" Jericho asked with a helpless expression on his face, looking up at Mal. There was a long moment of stretched silence between them before Jericho began stuttering in distress.

"I-I-I...I th-thought-" Jericho said in between heaving breaths, tears running down his cheeks.

"You thought I used you, like everyone else. Hm?" Mal answered for him. Jericho pitifully nodded before Mal shook his head and brought the boy into his chest again, holding him tight as Jericho's breathing steadily slowed down and he was able to breathe again.

Idly, Mal just barely felt the sensation of Jericho sliding the buttons of his shirt out of each other, nonchalantly attempting to get his shirt off in the cramped and crowded closet.

"No!" Mal said sternly, ripping away from Jericho and catching his wrists. Mal immediately deflated and felt terrible at Jericho's heartbroken face.

"...Why…?" Jericho said hoarsely.

Mal didn't understand, he didn't get it.

This is what Jericho did, it was the only thing he'd ever been able to do right. It was his only way of making Mal _his_ , and Mal rejected it every single time.

Why did he keep pushing Jericho away, only to pull him closer?

"...I don't want to _fuck_ you." Mal said simply, looking Jericho hard in the eyes.

Mal took another deep breath.

"I don't want to fuck you, I want to love you. Why can't you see that?" Mal said as he loosened his hold on Jericho's wrists. Jericho couldn't breathe, he could barely make out what Mal had said, he was pretty sure he was going to pass out.

And then suddenly, Mal's lips were crashing into Jericho's, and Jericho was pressed against the wall. The kiss was passionate and warm and full of emotion, but it still wasn't like kisses were. It wasn't needy or greedy or pushy, it was just Mal.

Jericho attempted to wrap his fingers in Mal's hair, to grasp at his neck, to rub his sides, _something_ , but Mal wouldn't let him. Mal simply held Jericho's hands, each hand intertwined with Jericho's and held softly between them. Jericho felt like his heart was going to burst as he cried soft tears in between their kisses, not used to feeling so much at one time.

Finally after what felt like hours, Jericho pulled away, smiling as he wiped fresh tears from his face.

"...I love you too." Jericho said hoarsely, burying his face into Mal's chest again.

[Kinda sappy, I know. After this I planned a nsfw scene, it'd be nice if in reviews you told me whether you actually wanted to see it? Read and Review please!]


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